


a blissful death (to you, as well.)

by herrscher



Category: Elsword (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, anyway im dying and (insert image of man dabbing at forehead whilst sweating), arie stop blasting "a happy death" challenge, i swear i am coping writing this, its romantic if you SQUINT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 01:11:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15984401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herrscher/pseuds/herrscher
Summary: human mortality is a proof of henir’s hand in humanity; all that lives must surely die. why, then, did herrscher not take into account this possibility?





	a blissful death (to you, as well.)

He cannot feel sorrow; such an emotion is hardly something which he has the capacity for, in his current existence. The void is unfeeling, unmoving – as it is meant to be, a cold force, only known in existence alone. Still, he cannot place what he feels, a dull ache in his core, separate from the pain of its shattered state. The pressure of Bluhen’s body against his side is something he only faintly senses – like limbs, like skin, nerves are unneeded by a vessel of chaos, and have likewise been cast aside, and only his eyes prove to be that which shows him the truth of the situation; fur is squeezed between arm and shoulder, and the man that all but falls against him seems weak, attempts to hide his face, turned away.

“… Bluhe—“ he’s caught off by the sound of a sigh, a faint thing, as though the other is struggling for breath, let alone speaking. Typically the other would quip, make his presence known in some way or another, but to be in Henir like this, with his sensitivities…

“Please,” a weak voice, and he can feel the shift, the tensing of Bluhen’s body against him; he can’t tell if the tension is from a search for words or an attempt at comfort, but Herrscher adjusts himself in turn, pulling the other’s body against him, wordless. A mumbled ‘thank you’, coupled with a sigh and the close of eyes, is the only response he immediately recieves, but he does not pry, merely glances down at Bluhen’s face.

At the mark of Henir that has all but consumed the flesh of his cheek and trailed down his neck.

“You—“ Again, he’s stopped short of speech, and Bluhen is leaning back against him as heavily as he can, as though the motion itself is both denial and acceptance of his words.

“I… I know. I know.” The words come out almost laughed, hushed. Still, Herrscher can hear the fear in them. How human has he become, that even the fear of…

“You should not be here.” He says them quicker than he expects he would, and for some reason, one he cannot comprehend, he feels hesitant to speak. Is it not his responsibility, as ruler of oblivion, to oversee the end of all? Does Bluhen not classify?

… No. He shouldn’t, but… “You will die if you allow this to continue. Your existence—“

“You know,” he speaks up, voice hushed, eyes closed, and his lips purse for a moment before he continues, “eternity is something humans cannot fathom. They act as though they can sense the length of time that eternity is, but their brains cannot truly comprehend its length. Isn’t that a bit strange?”

“Humans act as though they know many things,” is Herrscher’s reply, and although he bites back a comment he shouldn’t say, he swallows. “They are stubborn and don’t know when it is enough of anything.”

Laughter, like bells, reaches his ears again. “I suppose that is the one thing that differentiates me from them, in the end.”

“What was your point in saying any of this?” Why does Herrscher feel discomforted by the discussion? Why is there something in this that makes him…?

“Eternity is a long time,” Bluhen hums out, and closes his eyes with a sigh, “and humans cannot live forever. Elria birthes, and Henir… is that which makes humans mortal.”

Herrscher’s silence is noted, and Bluhen’s lips curl into a faint smile. “I wonder… if eternity is meant for me.”

“You should be with Richter, not I.” Please, Herrscher wants to say, please leave. Please continue to exist. But… Bluhen sighs, and leans further against him, and his mark glows a faint green. “You will—“

“—die? That…” more laughter, “…that is the idea.”

Herrscher cannot say he understands. Not at all, such a concept is so strange to him, and the words make his core ache more, a change from dull to pulsing, and his lips form a line, arms wrapping further around Bluhen, pulling him closer. 

He can’t tell if it’s painful or not. He seems pleased, content… and passes in Herrscher’s arms. His body is dead weight against him, a vessel alone, lacking the soul of the celestial that once was, essence and energy alike.

 

He allows the void to destroy the corpse like it did the humans before him.

 

All things meet their end, he supposes, reminds himself as though it is a comfort.

 

Hopefully he will have as pleasant a death when he, also, must come to an end.


End file.
